


What Are You?

by SkippySq



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Fluff, POV Second Person, Shipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 04:43:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17501780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkippySq/pseuds/SkippySq
Summary: Lena always wanted her freedom, but now that she has it she's not sure what to do with it. As she joins her new family in a night of bonding, she reflects on how things have changed and what she should do moving forward. Does she embrace magic, or would that be following in her creator's footsteps?





	What Are You?

_What am I?_

The question had been on your mind the past couple weeks, demanding your attention whenever a moment of silence gave it an opportunity. Luckily this manor had so few of those, between constant adventures. Unfortunately there was always one night out of the month that was quiet enough: an odd event known as family night. Here you are, trapped as everyone gathered in the television room to watch movies, play games, or just be in general proximity of each other. It was a strange and foreign custom that had enough moments of quiet to get your mind racing..

You stared at the large television, unsure of what was happening on screen. It was the red one’s turn to pick a movie and for some reason he had chosen a romantic comedy. Based on the collective groans around the room you guessed it was one of his usual choices. Why did they keep allowing him to choose it if they were so sick of it? You kept the question to yourself, a stranger in this land of family bonding, and just watched as the screen moved from one scene to another.

Funnily enough, it seemed like no one was paying attention to the film. The triplets sat on the floor and fought over a bowl of popcorn, kernels and seeds flying about. Donald and Scrooge were off at a table on the other side of the room playing a card game, which seemed to be going in the sailor’s favor based on the rich duck’s flustered scowl. Beakley was beside them in a chair, book in hand as she scolded Scrooge about being a sore loser. You and Webby were hogging the couch, Webby using your lap as a pillow while you stroked her hair feathers. She was distracted by you, glancing up at you every few minutes. She’d blush and turn back to the screen if you caught her, and you loved it. She really was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen, every little blush leaving you with a strong urge to shower her in kisses.

_What am I?_

You had asked Magica that a handful of times during your captivity, and her response was just as cruel as could be expected of her. _“You are mine.”_ She’d say. It was her usual tactic, treating you like a tool or piece of property and nothing more. You wished you could hate her for that, and most of you does, but somewhere inside exists a small part of you that still craved some form of approval, maybe even love from her. Her abuse had rubbed off too well, your mind telling you you still needed her. Magica was right though, as much as it hurt to think, you originally existed simply because she needed you to.

But you’d moved past that the day she nearly turned you back into nothing, the day you gripped onto Webby in a desperate need to stay with her. After that, you were Webby’s shadow, protecting her in those rare moments you didn’t think she’d manage on skill alone. And for a year that was what you were, a guardian angel for the only person that ever treated you with kindness and love while she hunted for a way to get you back.

But that year ended and you were found, yanked back into a physical existence. And for a brief moment you felt what you thought was the most joy you could ever feel, knowing this existence didn’t depend on Magica’s need for you. But then Webby wrapped you in a hug, one that felt somehow different than all the ones before it, and you knew this was true happiness. You actually started to cry onto her shoulder, covering her vest in tears and snot as you gripped at her back, too afraid to let go in case you got lost again.

You stayed at the Manor that night, crashing on the very same couch you and Webby now occupied. She’d slept on the floor beside you and gave your hand a firm squeeze every few minutes to confirm you were still there. The next day you were moved into your own room, albeit briefly. Surprisingly, existing as a shadow for a year after the only parental figure you’d ever known blasted you left some traumas you weren’t prepared for. You managed two hours alone in that room before having an anxiety attack, running straight to Webby’s door sobbing like a small child. It took little convincing after that for Webby to talk her grandmother into letting you share her room. Beakley moved a spare bed in and discreetly brought you a nightlight the next day. You were so overwhelmed you wanted to hug the woman, but couldn’t work up the nerve.

You had told Webby one night how you still craved some form of acceptance from Magica, an acknowledgement of how proud she was that you’d moved on from her and became your own person. It was only when the sadness and shame became too much to hide that you told Webby, crying into your hands because you were too scared to look her in the eyes. This was the witch that had tried to kill her and here you were, admitting that you wanted this awful woman’s love. How could Webby not resent you for that?

Somehow she didn’t. There was no sign of judgement, no anger or bitterness, just the warm face of a friend that cared about you. She held you for an hour and showered you with affection and love, told you it didn’t make you weak or stupid for wanting the love of a parent. In that hour Webby made you feel more wanted than you’d felt in your entire life. The need to pull her close and kiss her, to show her how happy and real she made you feel, was strong and you couldn’t fight it. Webby gave out a small squeak as your beak found hers. You pulled away a second after, prepared to apologize for letting your emotions overcome you, but Webby didn’t give you the chance, lunging back at you as her hands gently held your face. You shared a few clumsy first kisses that night, finally acknowledging what seemed to be obvious to everyone but yourselves.

Six months later and you’ve more or less established a rapport with everyone at the manor, being treated like you were always a member of the family. Even Beakley seemed to like you, acting more motherly in one week than Magica had in fifteen years. You had always hoped for freedom from your creator, but you could never have seen an outcome as good as this, surrounded by a surrogate family and a girlfriend/best friend that adored you.

And yet you still asked yourself that question. You were created from black magic by a woman who didn’t even allow you to call her mom, simply because she needed revenge. You weren’t made to be loved, and that thought could take you into a dark place if you let it. You were created for a purpose that no longer existed, so what was your purpose now? Should you learn magic and risk becoming like Magica? Could you try and live a normal life, pretending you weren’t a shadow creature given physical form? Did you really deserve a place in this family? Did you really deserve Webby?

Of course you didn’t.

“Hey,” you heard from below. You glanced down to see Webby, who stared up at you with a look of worry on her face, perfectly accentuated by a weak smile. “You ok?” she asked. You nodded and looked at the TV to find the credits scrolling while an overly cheerful and bland pop tune played. How long had you been lost in thought? Red, Blue, and Green were still on the floor, two of them staring at you while the latter played on his phone.

“Yeah, I’m cool. Just can’t believe how awful that movie was. Total garbage.” You responded, painting on brief smirk to throw her off your scent. You could tell Webby wasn’t falling for your answer, she knew you well enough to sense when you were hiding something. Her smile wavered for a brief second before she turned to the triplets.

“Could you guys go make some more popcorn?” Webby asked. You could sense her obvious intent in the request, wanting the area cleared for a brief moment so you could be honest without drawing too much attention to it. It was more proof you didn’t deserve her.

“Do it yourself,” the green one replied, eyes glued to his device.

“Sure thing,” Huey answered, seemingly taking the hint. He firmly elbowed Louie in the gut before grabbing the bowl and leaving the room. The two let out exaggerated groans in near-perfect synchronization with each other as they rose from the floor and followed their brother into the kitchen. Webby waited a couple seconds after the boys left before she lifted her head off your lap. She sat up and scooched close to you, close enough you could feel the concern radiating off of her like heat.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked in a hushed voice, her head finding rest upon your shoulder. If it was anyone else asking you would have brushed them off with a snarky remark or sarcastic quip, but it was Webby.

“I’m not sure what to do now,” you whispered slowly, choosing each word with care. “All I ever wanted was to be free of her, to not be her tool or slave. And I never really thought about what I’d do with it, probably because I was never one hundred percent sure I’d actually get it. I was scared to make it that real, y’know?” You feel Webby’s hand, her fingers curling around yours tightly. “It’s stupid.”

“If it bothers you it’s not stupid,” she replied. “What do you want to do? What’s the first thing that comes to mind?”

Magic. It coursed through you, a strong level of it directly from your “mother”, and yet you barely knew any spells, let alone how to channel it. You’d like to learn how to use it, to be of use and give something back to this family that had given you a second chance at life. And yet wouldn’t that be embracing Magica, wouldn’t that solidify how you were her daughter? What if learning the art was the first step into becoming her? How could you let yourself follow in her footsteps?

“Learning magic wouldn’t turn you into her, if that’s what you’re scared of.” Webby said. She always managed to surprise you with how easily she could predict your thoughts. Sometimes you wondered if you were still magically attached to her somehow? Maybe it was just spending so much time together had made you predictable? Either way your wavelengths often found themselves intersecting.

“I don’t even know that, how could you?” you asked. Webby took a moment of silence before she responded, and what she said threw you off guard.

“I know because I love you, and I believe in you, and you don’t.” She was right of course, you didn’t believe in yourself, and you’d done so many bad things in your life that you couldn’t imagine why anyone would love you. Hell, even your relationship with Webby started as a lie, an attempt to manipulate the young girl for Magica’s ends. And yes, you didn’t want to do these things, but you still did them. So how were you expected to feel any love or compassion for yourself when you knew just how truly unworthy of it you were? “You’re not bad Lena. You’re good and sweet and adorable. You care about people a lot more than you let them think and I know Magica had nothing to do with that. Learning magic won’t turn you into her, and I’ll be here whenever you need to hear that.”

You wish you could vocalize how much comfort those words brought you, but nothing managed to leave your mouth, nothing that felt worthy of her. The triplets returned with snacks and you let the conversation drop. Webby thanked Huey in particular, secretly for giving you two a moment of privacy. You gave him a brief but genuine smile and thanked him as well, much to the shock of everyone besides Webby.

Her words had done a lot to ease your nerves and temporarily boost your self-worth, which had you thinking in a different perspective. You’d escaped from Magica and here you were still letting the fear of her control you? You’d be damned if that went on any longer. Webby had convinced you, tomorrow would be the day you started practicing magic. Simple stuff at first - basic potions and spells - but any step forward was still a step and you were ready to take one.

It was Webby’s turn to choose an activity, and thankfully it was something that involved chasing each other around the mansion with plastic weapons. You gear up and load your silly dart gun, your mind now occupied over which triplet to go after. Webby would most certainly take out the other two before coming after you, and with a well-timed flirt you could get her blushing and distracted long enough to get in a lucky shot, hopefully winning the game. It had worked a couple of times and you always enjoyed using it. A dirty tactic, but it was certainly her fault for looking so cute when she was flustered. You sneak a glance in her direction and giggle to yourself as she adjust her goggles.

What are you?

You were a few things: a former shadow and slave, a stubborn and sarcastic girl, a sorceress in training. But the only thing that mattered tonight was that you were Webby’s.

Being the winner of this game would be awesome too though.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually tapped into some personal stuff while writing this if it wasn't obvious, giving Lena a bit of the fears and worries I had my first year leaving a bad home. It actually made me appreciate how far I've come in getting away from that, so this was surprisingly cathartic to write.
> 
> Plus gay bird fluff is always fun.


End file.
